Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

24 down the table toward another mem- ber of the brass trust. “General Sanfordwaithe is Supply and Materiel. I am sure it is within the power of the combined armed forces to get you all the whatever-it- is you may need.” I looked down the table at General Sanfordwaithe with a question in my eyes. He looked smugly back at me. “Do you know what a poltergeist is?” I asked. He looked slightly piqued. “I am administrative,’’ he reproved gently and patiently, as only a military man can put a civilian in his place. “I do not pretend to be personally familiar with the specifications of every one of the several million items under my jurisdiction.”” He smiled and his voice became almost waggish. “But I am certain you will find our polter- geist division sympathetic to your needs.” That did it. “Oh goodie,” I exclaimed. “Then maybe you'd better send me a half dozen to start with.” “And is that all that’s been holding you up?” the commanding general asked, softly reproving. ‘‘And this time, make them little boy poltergeists,”’ I urged. “‘Mine was a little girl poltergeist, and maybe that was what was wrong—just too delicate for the job.” I could see by their faces they assumed I was talking about some gadget similar to a male and female electrical plug, and was being cute in my terminology. “Mr. Kennedy hasn’t been feeling well lately,” Old Stone Face put in hurriedly. ““He’s been working very hard. Much too hard. I would have sent him on a long rest weeks ago had this not been so urgent.”’ They looked at me with some pity beneath their contempt—a soft civilian. From there on it was no more than ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION a diplomatic and tactical withdrawal of forces. I withdrew early, to allow Old Stone Face further time for excuses of my behavior. But they would be back. The order would go out from Gen- eral Sanfordwaithe’s office to supply me with a half dozen male type polter- geists immediately. It would flow down through the echelons of command, getting sterner and terser. There would be some scrambling around trying to find the poltergeist division, but no one would become alarmed that it had been lost. That was customary. There would be days, perhaps weeks when the orders would be pigeonholed, on the theory that if you just forget to do anything about it, the need will pass. But General Sanfordwaithe would not let them forget this time. There would be memorandums, each one dredging a little farther down the chain of command before it, in turn, became pigeonholed. And finally, somewhere down the line, some clerk would know what a poltergeist was. He would first go to the source books and look it up, so that he could have the paragraphs to substantiate him when he tried to tell his commanding officer what was wanted. From there the explanations would flow back up through the eche- lons of command. Faces would get redder and redder, angrier and angrier. Yes, they would be back. But until then, I could go back to being a per- sonnel director. I thought, this time with genuine pleasure, of the simple little problems waiting for me back at my Office. Nothing more than im- minent strikes, lockouts, legal tangles, visits from the Industrial Welfare Commission, and Miss Jones won’t let Miss Smith have a fresh pencil until she brings the stub of her old one to supply room. I walked on down the corridors of the plant and nodded pleasantly to connicloookks.c© nn